‘Oi, what are you doing?’ The fat man panted, his stubble greasy and his shirt soaked with sweat.
‘He’s stuck in there,’ Harry replied, avoiding eye contact with the fat man’s waist, which only just slid between the cars. The fat man wore oversized brown laced trainers and his trousers were like girders.
‘Yeah?’ the fat man said. Harry felt uncomfortable, like the man was creating a scene.
‘Yeah, see.’ Harry pointed to the unconscious man in the car. The fat man peered in the window, lifting his sacking arms to cover the reflecting sunlight and gasping for breath. Suddenly the overweight giant clenched his dripping shirt with both hands and gasped like he just swallowed a bug.
‘Not now!’ Harry grunted. The giant fell to the sizzling motorway tarmac, clenching his chest. Other people sat on the cars spotted the man fall and rushed over, Harry knelt at his side. Harry could not comprehend the unfolding situation; it was all happening to fast.
‘Help! Someone call an ambulance!’ Harry pleaded to the bystanders who wore sunhats and shirts with gormless expressions. A middle-aged lady, in a pink flower blouse pulled her phone out, then a smaller bearded man.
Harry felt helpless he could not help the man; the motorway was rammed and the ambulance on the turnoff behind had gone. The people gathered in a circle, none of them helping.
They were a turnoff to the hospital, if he wasn’t so fat, they could carry him. The fat nameless man’s neck split into several folds as he seized, lashing his arms and shaking his head uncontrollably, foaming at the mouth and clenching his teeth. Harry stepped back, wary of the bystanders. The crowd began to step back. A man and woman went to the aid of the fallen man, attempting to hold his head still. His seizure hadn’t knocked him out cold, Harry felt relief the man was still alive but the thought somebody might blame him for this was frightening. He had been blamed for incidents before, a neighbour once accused him of having an affair and his boss once had him monitored on suspicion of fraud.
Harry panicked at the thought, stood up and tried to catch Sheila’s attention a few cars back. Harry remembered Sheila took a first aid course, but it seemed improbably the man could be saved now. The fat man’s body was becoming limper with each gasp. Sheila was drinking, laughing and getting touchy with the lads. Harry felt happy for her. Sheila couldn’t see his waves, so he rushed to the man’s side. The heat pounding down, the tarmac rippling like a desert and the fumes foul.
Do something!’ a woman cried from behind Harry, startling him. An Asian man beside Harry joined the chant and soon the mob pleaded, shouting for Harry to help. Harry could not escape now, he had to defend himself.
‘I can’t help I am not a doctor!’ Harry said. ‘How long is the ambulance going to take?!’
The woman beside the fat man answered, the fat man was as still as a rock now. ‘They said they are busy responding to incidents in the city, they can’t give an arrival time,’ her face chalk white as her lip trembled. Harry could see the fear in the woman’s eyes as she held the fat man’s unconscious head. Then the fat man in the beating sun opened his eyes for a few seconds, vomit squirted out onto the ground, missing Harry but decorating the Asian man’s khaki shorts. The crowd were becoming more distant, a couple walked away mumbling.
‘That’s no heart attack, that’s something else!’ said the Asian man next to Harry. It was as if a bomb had exploded, everyone watching reacted with panic. Smiles of the bystanders turned to worry and fear, a few of the onlookers frantically jogged back to their cars, locking their doors.
‘It’s a virus, the terrorists are back!’ another man yelled, sending the remaining bystanders into a primal panic. The people screamed, shouting ‘Get back to your cars! There’s a virus outbreak!’ and ‘It’s the black death!’ One teen behind Harry tripped over in the confusion and was trampled by a woman. The woman supporting the fat man’s head stood and walked away further down the motorway, vanishing between the sea of clogged cars.
‘Michael, Michael Hanson,’ said the now shaking Asian man kneeling next to Harry, outstretching his hand. Harry hesitated, scanning the road, realising the ridiculous sentiment of shaking someone’s hand while a man lay dying or dead in front of them. Harry was grateful the car was shading them. Inside the other unconscious man whom Harry found before, Harry had forgot about him. Harry found the situation surreal. Him and Michael were exchanging pleasantries. Harry shook Michael’s hand; it had a rubbery texture.
‘No time for chatting, any ideas, Michael?’ Harry shrugged unsure of what to do, mindful of Sheila and the still unmoving traffic. Both men beaded sweat from their foreheads.
‘No idea, I fancy a drink, do you?’ Michael’s withdrawal worried Harry. The behaviour of the other motorists was diabolical, everyone ran off unwilling to help because of fear. The ambulance was nowhere in sight either.
‘Hold in there.’ Harry reassured the unconscious fat man. He wondered if the unconscious man could hear him. Unconscious but alive, Harry saw his neck veins turn bluish green and his neck muscles stiffen. Just as they did, the fat man ceased breathing. The fat man’s face turned blue as his mouth gushed with foam. The arms flopped to the road surface.
‘Shit! He’s dead!’ Michael cried. Harry felt his heart skip a beat, a nagging fear rose from his spine, his hairs were razors and he felt he had to leave the area.
‘We need to get away from here,’ Harry said.
Other motorists and passengers returned to see the fat man who was now blue skinned and lifeless.
‘Jesus! It’s a fucking virus of some kind!’ Some woman huddle in the crowd shouted, her voice shrieking, to Harrys amazement he wondered why she came back if she wasn’t helping.
‘No shit!’ A buffed-up camo pants man yelled, huffing at the shrieking woman. The crowd bickered and the voices a razor pain in Harry’s ears. Michael was looking uncomfortable.
‘Fuck off or help, stop causing a stir!’ Harry shouted. Some of them walked away in silence. Harry felt ashamed, the fat man in front of him was cold dead and not one person helped. Did they even phone an ambulance? Was the ambulance coming?
Harry struggled to keep cool, birds were flocking overhead as the sun passed into a cloud. The car’s metal buzzed with heat; the air conditioning of the surrounding cars hummed tediously.
‘There’s someone in the car.’ Harry jumped up from the road and one punched the car window in rage, people scorned at him in surprise. His fist stung and trickled blood down his forearm.
‘Jeez,’ quipped Michael. ‘You’re gonna have to pay for that sunshine!’ Harry smirked sadistically at him, the pain surged through his arm, pulsating with every heartbeat. Harry put a finger to the man’s neck and couldn’t find a pulse. He lifted the unconscious driver’s arm; it was colder than the neck. Harry assumed the shade had cooled the body. There was no pulse.
‘Him too?’ Michael stepped over the broken glass peaking in the car window, pointing to the bottle of water that had turned yellow in the cupholder.
‘I’m afraid so, no pulse.’ Harry released the corpses arm which slumped to the bodies lap. This was making Harry faint. Michael breathing down his neck didn’t help matters.
‘It’s the water,’ Michael whispered. Harry saw the bottle shaking his head in disagreement. Seeing the demise of the fat man had eased this passing.
The air seemed to become like fog, like Harry was smelling the scent of death. A look back through the crowds revealed that Sheila had now sat cross legged on the roof with her knees to her shoulders. Harry could not see her expression.
‘What can we do?’ Harry asked. ‘I have no idea how to deal with this, do you?’ Michael put his arm around him, Harry was uncomfortable with a stranger touching him but resisted the desire to shove Michael, hoping he didn’t want to whisper to him again. This short Asian Michael was creepy but friendly, and Harry had yet to determine whether he liked him or hated him.
‘I suggest we return to our cars, there’s nothing we can do,’ Michael s
aid. Michael turned and walked away towards Harry’s car.
Harry observed the scene, the fat man on the floor, the broken window, which he would happily pay for, the body, touching it might not have been wise. His fist was sore but had clotted, the blood had stained his arm. The clouds were providing a well needed shade from the heat. The bystanders no longer watched, the people on the surrounding vehicle now resumed gossiping.
No ambulance in sight, not even a medical chopper.
Harry stepped back, speechless. Two dead bodies left on the motorway in the cars. Harry maneuverer over the fat man’s body. He contemplated covering him but changed his mind. The gunk and green veins told Harry something terrible could happen if he touched the body. If it was viral Harry could have it already.
A few people approached crying and yelling, the hysterical woman was amongst them, no longer hysterical but pulling on Harry’s heartstrings. They gathered around the fat man no longer laughing or crying. One woman went pale and vomited next to the body. Harry felt nauseas again, he had to get back to Sheila. Whatever had killed that fat man was not normal. Harry knew a heart attack didn’t cause green pus to pour from the victim’s mouth.
Harry reached his car after trying to avoid chit chat with nosy drivers who attempted to talk to him on the short walk back. He felt stupid for leaving the car window open, somebody could have taken the keys or Sheila’s handbag. Sheila must be roasting in her interview attire.
Sheila was on the roof behind, drunk and unable to see if another motorist stole her bag. It was there along with Harrys phone. Harry got in the door handle burning his hand. The phone signal was one bar and the battery in the red. Worryingly Harry had a text from Molly twenty minutes ago. He unlocked the phone and read the message.
It read: “Harry, I’ve had to take James to the hospital, he is not very well at all!!! Please phone me as soon as you get this!!!”
Harry pushed call button to contact Molly. Harry was impatient as it rang. It buzzed some more before beeping three times and cutting out. Harry looked at the phone screen again, the battery icon was flashing. The silence was deafening.
‘Bloody phone, never reliable!’ he shouted, seeing Sheila in the rear-view mirror who heard him. Harry watched as Sheila slid down the bonnet and paced towards the car waving goodbye to the sunbathing lads on the car. She put her head in the window.
‘What’s wrong harry?’ she asked. Harry was relieved she was sober, he couldn’t handle a drunk Sheila as well, not after all of today’s carnage. He had dealt with her drunkenness before and it always ended in arguing.
‘It’s James, he’s sick apparently, I can’t get through to Molly!’ Harry gasped. Sheila ran to the other side of the car and got in. She checked the passenger door for her phone.
‘Full battery,’ Sheila said, and Harry perked up. ‘But no signal.’
She gave Harry the phone and he snatched it from her hand. She frowned at him. He stashed his back in his trouser pocket.
‘Tell me what is wrong,’ she said. Sheila seemed genuinely frightened at Harry’s behaviour. Before dialling, he paused, shook his head and explained quietly.
‘There’s a man up ahead who’s just died of a possible heart attack, and another dead in his car, probably from heat stroke.’
‘Oh, my god, Harry! Why hasn’t anyone phoned an ambulance?!’ she cried.
‘Shh, keep it down we don’t want to panic the entire motorway! Check what the news says about this traffic as well!’ Harry became impatient and didn’t want a crowd to gather around his car.
She did as he said turning the radio knob and it crackled to life. There was a snap in the radio audio, then a pop and hiss. The radio hissed silent.
‘Wait, this can’t be right,’ Sheila said, growing concerned. ‘There’s nothing coming through.’ As she turned the tuning knob, each frequency sounded like bacon sizzling.
Harry tried to ring Molly from Sheila’s phone now he had a signal. The phone rang, with each ring sweat poured from his underarms, the anticipation and impatience were grinding him down.
‘Nothing, no answer! This is not normal,’ Harry blurted. ‘No radio, no phone.’ Harry passed the phone back to Sheila, the signal bar at zero.
The motorway was a frying pan, the human’s eggs and bacon cooking until they passed out. People were sprawled on the road now, hiding under cars, spraying each other with sun block and water. They could not stay any longer, the heat would become fatal.
‘We have to get somewhere sheltered. We’ll walk if we have to,’ Harry said. Sheila wasn’t happy and removed her black jacket, her underarms drenched too.
Harry saw people jumping on cars in front, some fell over as they tried to run down the narrow gap between cars. Something had triggered mass panic. Harry felt his heart skip a beat. People were screaming. Sheila was trying to see what was happening. People scrambled running over other people as they sprinted down the motorway. Children were being carried by shocked parents and car horns sounded.
The screams scraped Harry’s ears, making him angry that they wouldn’t shut up. Harry covered his ears with his hands, but he could still hear the crying. It was hysteria.
‘What the fucks going on up there?’ Sheila snapped.
‘I hope it’s not another heart attack,’ Harry replied. He got the impression things were about to change to dangerous.
Harry got out the car and Sheila did so as well. The masses of panicked people pushed one another to get away from the fat man, their faces pale with fear. Sheila leant on the car; strangers piled past her. The fat man had become violent attacking bystanders. People attacked one another. Harry could see them punching the faces of one another. It was violence Harry had never seen before. Something pulled Harry closer to the action.
‘I’m checking it out.’ Harry loosened his belt.
‘No, I’m coming with you,’ Sheila asserted. Walking round and standing at Harry’s side.
‘No!’ Harry snapped. ‘Wait here.’ His face tingled red and his feet began to drag as he walked towards the shouting.
He got a few cars back from the disturbance. People in cars were stricken with fear. There was a moulding scent that carried in the wind. Harry gagged into his hand before spitting a thick lump onto the road.
Birds squealed overhead and the surrounding cars were now being abandoned. Harry wanted to drive on the other side of the bollards, where no traffic had travelled for the last hour at least.
The fat man’s neck was puffing, oozing green hard sludge resembling lard. The smell was intoxicating Harry, he had to cover his mouth with his hand. He gagged at the sight up ahead. He was a good few cars away and whatever was unfolding hadn’t notice him.
He took a few deep breaths scanning the deserted cars. Harry turned to walk back to the car, Sheila next to him.
Michael the touchy Asian had vanished a while ago. Harry was annoyed. The guy was friendly enough and may have been a counterweight to Sheila. Harry had one thought now, his son and home. They continued past Harry’s car. Sheila wound the car window up and left her handbag. Clouds were blocking the sun, but it was still hot. The shouting and the crowd that remained around the fat man’s car were acting weirder, shambling and groaning. Harry was nervous. He hadn’t felt butterflies since college exams.
Harry turned to Sheila as they made there was back down the motorway towards the turnoff, the cars empty abandoned. ‘We’re walking.’
CHAPTER 5
No Way Out
Harry and Sheila reached the turn off after walking through the traffic of occupied cars, the drivers and passengers to far away from the attacks to see what was happening. Some cars smoked from the overused clutch, bored occupants smoke and sleep.
Behind, a few bored motorists had tagged along, carrying purses and bottles of water. It felt sickening to be leading them to the hospital, knowing Harry couldn’t provide an answer to the traffic or to the lack of emergency services. The only motorway out of Beach Town was clogged full of cars. Harry
was sure they had blocked the bridge from the city, that would explain there being no cars on the other side of the road. Harry figured the people were just as concerned as he was.
Sheila needn’t squeeze through the gaps, her slim waist slipped elegantly passed them. Harry found himself the victim of an ignorant red Ford driver who opened his door to ask, ‘What’s going on up there?’ Harry replied quickly, he didn’t want Sheila and him wasting time in a danger zone, ‘Collision.’
The hospital was secluded after the curved turn off which ramped down directly into the carpark. The large hospital doors were open, the car park was full of cars but no occupants.
The heat was burning a hole in Harry’s back and Sheila kept readjusting her white blouse. The other motorists had stopped following once Sheila and Harry headed towards the hospital waddling back to the packed motorway with coughs and sighs.
‘Hold on,’ Sheila said, pausing to rub her eyes.
‘What the hell,’ Harry muffled.
They were nearing the car park entrance and free of the unbearably thick smog.
‘What now?’
‘I need to find James,’ Harry said, gathering the little energy he had and marching on. Sheila pulled her phone from her trousers but then she stashed the phone to her pocket again. Her shirt was now wet, and she unbuttoned the top two buttons, catching Harry’s ear.
‘You feel okay?’ he asked, stopping and admiring the bright white bra.
‘Yes, I’m fine,’ she said. ‘Just a little hot.’ Sheila led the way to the car park entrance, the ramp coming to an end. Harry removed his arms from his jacket and chucked it over his shoulder.
They approached the car park gate; it was open but blocked a large jeep. The guard box empty. The car park as empty as a ghost town too. Harry looked in the guard’s boxes open window; it stank of hot plastic.
‘Anything?’ Sheila asked.
Before Harry had time to react, someone had smacked a heavy metal object over his back, sending splinters of agony through his spine. His head lashed backwards as he fell to the concrete. Sheila screamed, Harry turned and saw her take a whack to the legs, from another figure.
Beach Town: Apocalypse Page 3
